


got me so hypnotized (body rollin’ round and round)

by gimmeyerbrains



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Gabe is not a hockey player, M/M, Tyson can’t believe that his life is T-Pain song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 17:50:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20550224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gimmeyerbrains/pseuds/gimmeyerbrains
Summary: Nate doesn’t know how to stop when it comes to Tyson’s birthday. Tyson kinda wishes he would, until he doesn’t anymore.(Or, the one where Tyson really doesn’t wanna end up on deadspin and Gabe’s a stripper.)





	got me so hypnotized (body rollin’ round and round)

**Author's Note:**

> So I started this months ago and it was supposed to be a quick n’ dirty & fun fic to get me into writing again but then Tyson got traded and I lost motivation lmao  
anyway, I haven’t written anything in over a year and have never written anything for this pairing so  
be gentle pls
> 
> (also technically Tyson’s birthday is in the off-season but, whatever we’re obviously not operating in real life here lmao)  
ps. I also edited this at like 5 am so if there’s any mistakes I’M SORRY!

Tyson loves his friends, his team, okay? Especially Nate. He’s Tyson’s best friend who’s stuck by him even though he’s had some  _ Questionable Moments _ in the past. Like crying to him over the phone while sitting in a McDonald’s parking lot because his one night stand turned crush turned kinda boyfriend just broke up with him. He’s really the best thing that’s ever happened to Tyson, honestly. 

It’s just that Nate throws the most elaborate birthday parties for him every year and he can’t decide whether he loves or hates it.

It’s nice that he cares enough about Tyson to put so much effort in his birthday, especially when he can’t even manage doing his own laundry half the time, but like, Tyson  _ knows _ he can be pretty fuckin extra sometimes, okay, but he doesn’t wanna end up a headlining story on Deadspin and that’s definitely where it’s heading. 

Especially after last year when he ended up passed out drunk on EJ’s front lawn with two dudes dressed up in sexy food costumes and dried whipped cream in his hair, he’s okay with a low key dinner with the boys this year, it’s  _ fine. _

So when walks in the locker room the day before his birthday and is greeted by the guys being suspiciously quiet, he’s really not surprised when he’s being dragged to a club they rented out for the night. Which he can appreciate that, once again, Nate obviously went all out, judging by the actual fucking Blizzard machines he has set up behind the bar where bartenders wearing his Avs jersey cut into a crop top and booty shorts are serving Cookie Dough blizzards mixed with alcohol. 

But he can already tell this is probably gonna be the party that lands him his front page story. That theory is only confirmed further when Josty grabs him from his awkward perch against the bar and makes him do chocolate infused vodka shots. 

Tyson’s never said no to alcohol infused desserts.

+++

He’s reached the point of no return, truly shitfaced drunk when Nate and EJ call everyone over to the now deserted dance floor where they’re rolling in the biggest, most beautiful chocolate cake he’s ever seen. 

Nate’s giving some rambling speech about how much they love him and how he hopes this is Tyson’s “best birthday ever!” which, he says, like every year. 

Everyone is clapping and cheering. And it’s great. He loves them so much, and it’s not just because he’s drunk, okay? 

The lights go out except for one single spotlight shining down on His Precious, as Tyson’s started calling it in his head. Which, Nate’s really trying to steal his throne of being overly fucking dramatic. 

And then it happens. 

Tyson’s pretty sure he’s died from alcohol poisoning and gone to heaven when an actual  _ angel _ pops out of the top of his cake. His swept back blonde hair is literally fucking glowing in the spotlight shining down on him, his body is mind blowing, all his perfect tan skin on display. His abs are out of this world insane, and as a professional athlete, Tyson’s seen a lot of abs, he  _knows._

He’s rolling his hips to some slow and dirty RnB song and Tyson’s not proud of the fact that he’s probably drooling but he’ll just blame it on the fact that he’s consumed enough alcohol that he’ll more than likely still be drunk next week. He has on the tightest briefs Tyson’s ever seen, shiny metallic spandex in Avs colors.

And when the cake actually splits open and he starts coming towards Tyson, looking like literal sex on legs, he knows he’s all flushed red, sweaty, and gross looking but none of that seems to matter to the hottest fucking guy he’s ever seen. He’s looking at Tyson like he’s also the hottest thing he’s ever seen, which he knows that’s not true, it’s all part of the job, and he can’t believe a guy that looks like  _ that _ is looking at him the same way. 

He starts slowly grinding against one of Tyson’s thighs, hand resting on his shoulder. The smile on his face is devastating. 

He leans his head down, lips almost brushing against Tyson’s ear. 

“Happy birthday, Tyson.” 

Tyson starts to stutter out a reply, but then he’s turning around and right there across the back of his briefs is “Barrie #4” in silver sequins. He was vaguely aware of the loud cheers in the back of his mind, hypnotized by the way the man’s back muscles flexed. Tyson really hopes he doesn’t come in his pants in front of his friends, that would probably be the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to him, and he’s been in a lot of embarrassing situations before.

The rest of the lap dance is a blur of Tyson wanting to put his hands all over the guy but knowing that he really, really shouldn’t. And he’s grinding and rolling and looking over his shoulder at Tyson and making him forget anything and everything except his blue eyes and bright smile, and it’s suffocating because he feels like he can’t breathe, it’s so hot in here, like that stupid fucking Nelly song,  _ god _ what the  _ fuck _ is  _ happening? _

Like he said, he really can’t decide if he loves or hates these fucking parties. 

+++

When lap dance is over after what feels like a lifetime and the guy has disappeared into the back to change, Tyson makes a beeline for Nate, who’s leaning against the wall with a beer in his hand talking to EJ and Mikko. 

“You got me a fucking male stripper, Nathaniel?” Tyson shouts over the music. The way Nate’s face visibly brightens makes Tyson want to strangle him. 

“Yeah! EJ and I were walking downtown last week and we walked past this club, and his picture was in the front window and it was all Magic Mike and shit, it was fucking perfect so I went in and asked if they did parties and it took like forever for them to agree but it was obviously, like, fate, dude.” 

He looks so proud of himself, and honestly Tyson can’t be upset when he’s faced with Nate looking like that. 

Besides, best friends don’t get mad at best friends for getting them strippers for their birthdays. That’s like a fact or something, Tyson’s pretty sure. 

Especially one that looks like  _ That. _

+++

He’s telling them all about this Netflix rom com with Keanu Reeves he watched on the plane last week, when he feels someone come up behind him, and at first he thinks it’s Josty or Comphy because they’ve been trying to fuck with him all night but then he turns and. 

There’s his male stripper. Somehow looking even sexier in a tight white v neck and black mesh gym shorts, holding a water bottle. 

“Hey, I’m Gabe. I just wanted to say happy birthday for real this time.” 

Blinding smile. Aimed directly at him. 

And fuck, Tyson’s like, completely heart eyes, motherfucker.

He’s always bitched at the guys when they say that he falls in love at first sight but what the fuck do they expect when they find him dudes that look like sexy vikings off the cover of trashy romance novels he not so secretly enjoys. 

“Tyson. I mean you know that, obviously.” 

He feels like he’s gonna die, stuttering and ending it with the most awkward laugh he’s probably ever heard is not the way to win anyone over, let alone romance Vikings. 

But Gabe just laughs, and fuck it’s beautiful, and keeps smiling at Tyson like he didn’t just fuck up the easiest part of every conversation. 

“Well, Tyson, we should get a drink. If you want.”

And yeah, Tyson definitely  _ wants. _

+++

Four drinks later and ten minutes of hot and heavy making out, Tyson has Gabe up against the bathroom stall, sucking a hickey right where his neck meets his shoulder.

Gabe is slightly panting, lips beautifully bruised from kissing. Tyson slides both his hands up Gabe’s stomach, under his shirt. 

“You’re so hot, it’s like you aren’t even real.” Tyson mumbles into his neck, dragging his tongue along Gabe’s collarbone exposed by the collar of his shirt. 

“I’m definitely real.” 

Tyson just answers that by pulling Gabe’s shirt over his head and kissing down his stomach, making sure to kiss every single defined muscle. 

And then he’s on his knees looking up at Gabe.

And he looks even more like an angel from down here, with the neon lights from the bathroom forming a glowing pink halo against his golden hair, the harsh shadows making his cheekbones and jawline stand out, and Tyson’s never been overly religious or anything, but he would gladly worship him. 

He takes a quick minute to thank the universe that Gabe decided on mesh shorts because all he has to do is slightly tug, and there’s his dick right in Tyson’s face like it belongs. 

And yeah he’s kinda, definitely drunk, but it’s hard and big and beautiful and he’s gonna suck his dick so fucking good that Gabe never wants to leave this stall.

Nothing could really prepare Tyson for the moment he finally wraps his lips around Gabe’s dick, the moment he slightly chokes when he tries to go too deep too fast. 

“Shouldn’t you be getting the blow job? Since it’s your birthday?” Gabe pants, looking down at Tyson.

His pupils are blown, and you’d never be able to tell they’re the most beautiful blue Tyson’s ever seen. 

“Nah, blowing you is my present to myself.” Tyson says, pulling off and looking up with a grin. 

His lips instantly find Gabe again, almost like a magnetic force is pulling him back to where Gabe’s dick is pulled out just over the waistband of his shorts, all shiny slick with Tyson’s spit. 

He licks it all the way from the base to the tip trying to keep eye contact the whole time, before sucking the tip back in his mouth and immediately trying to go down as deep as he can. 

Gabe is debauched above him, looking like sin. 

+++

When Tyson wakes up the next morning, thankfully inside an actual house this time, he has Gabe’s number saved in his phone and an unopened text that reads “good morning :)”

So, he guesses that Nate’s parties aren’t so bad after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it!!!! Comments/kudos appreciated!!!  
also some facts!:  
\- My headcanon here is that Gabe and Tys fall madly in love and Tys has to live with the guys singing “I’m in luv (wit a stripper)” every time he walks in the room for months.  
\- But also Nate shows up at EJ’s wearing [this](https://image.dhgate.com/0x0/f2/albu/g10/M00/B4/F7/rBVaVlxAR7mARRKhAACOF-dQOHg949.jpg) on EJ’s birthday next year after being talked into it by Gabe and Tyson.  
\- Tyson would definitely watch Always Be My Maybe.  
\- I finished this fic at 3 am  
\- I wrote the last part of it listening to False God by Taylor Swift, which is probably why it came out like that lmao  
\- I’m off to go write nico/nolan ok bye  



End file.
